


soul deep

by bobtheacorn



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Give Me Keith Comforting Lance or Give Me Death, Langst, M/M, Post-Season Six
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-05-30 20:46:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15104576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobtheacorn/pseuds/bobtheacorn
Summary: Lance doesn't trust his voice to work, is worried about how broken even a smallheyis going to sound coming out of his mouth, so he hasn't managed to say anything before Keith reaches him, and Keith speaks again easily, something that Lance hasn't heard in a while coloring his voice, "I was wondering where you'd gone off to."“Sorry,” Lance says reflexively, his brow creasing. He clears his throat, passes another self-conscious hand across his face. “Did you need me for something?”“No?”Keith tips the answer up like he’s confused about the question, like he doesn’t think he needs a reason to just seek out Lance’s company.//Lately, Lance has gotten used to being alone.





	soul deep

There's a fire crackling at the center of the small circle of tents, inside a larger circle of Lions.

Lance sneaks out in the deep shadows between Red and Green, leading Kaltenecker by the harness. It's cooler away from the fire, quiet away from the sounds of everyone's voices, but his eyes adjust quickly to the darkness and he's finally able to appreciate the peacefulness of the surrounding alien prairie. The lilac colored grass that comes up past his knees that smells like salted caramel; the inky purple sky paint-splattered with bright and unfamiliar constellations stretching into infinity.

There are little flower buds curled up in patches near the base of the taller grass, faintly luminescent. The field almost glows in the night. It's the soft kind of glow that reminds Lance of the stars stuck to the ceiling of the room he shared with his siblings back on Earth, and a lump forms in his throat.

Slowly, he undoes Kaltenecker's harness so she can graze freely for a while, wraps it loose around his hand once he's done and pats her on the shoulder. She doesn't need the encouraging nudge. Kaltenecker has already dropped her head, sniffing at and then tearing up the soft, pliant grass and moseying along. Lance feels bad for not being able to bring her out in the sunshine, but she doesn't seem to mind as long as there's grass and fresh air and plenty of space to roam.

Lance settles down on the cool ground and folds his arms around his knees. He can hear some little space critters chirping and shuffling through the grass. He can hear the lull of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter behind him, only slightly muted in the distance. He can smell the grass and the dirt and the moisture in the air. Occasionally, the wind brushes past and caresses his face, tugging at his clothes and hair. Lance closes his eyes and enjoys what it feels like to be planetside again. Even though it's not Earth, these are sensations that he misses every day - an ache for something familiar that is soul deep.

Lance soaks it in while he can.

It's not like anyone is going to miss him from the group, anyway, and if they do they'll just assume he turned in for the night.

Lance sinks his head against his knees, hugs himself a little tighter.

He doesn't know how long he stays like that. It's long enough for Kaltenecker to have wandered away quite a bit, the soft shuffle and tear of grass receding into the quiet. Long enough for Lance to start feeling the cold seeping up from the ground, though he has no desire to move.

Long enough for someone to come looking for him.

"Lance."

Lance's head snaps up at the sound of Keith's voice. He turns his head, expecting Keith to be close, and sees instead that Keith is still several feet away, making his way toward Lance slowly through the grass, silhouetted against the rich dark sky. Lance immediately straightens his posture, swipes a hand over his face. His cheeks are cold, but mostly dry; the wetness sticks to his eyelashes and underneath his chin, clinging to his throat. He doesn't trust his voice to work, is worried about how broken even a small  _ hey _ is going to sound coming out of his mouth, so he hasn't managed to say anything before Keith reaches him, and Keith speaks again easily, something that Lance hasn't heard in a while coloring his voice, "I was wondering where you'd gone off to."

Lance clears his throat, passes another self-conscious hand across his face.

"Sorry," he says reflexively, his brow creasing, "Did you need me for something?"

"No?"

Keith tips the answer up like he's confused about the question, like he doesn't think he needs a reason to just seek out Lance's company. Keith lowers himself to the ground beside Lance, so close that Lance can feel a warmth washing off him that makes Lance want to huddle closer. The faint glow of the flowers makes it easier to see him now. The black t-shirt that hung off of Keith before is noticeably tighter than it was, and Lance tries not to get distracted by the way it rides up higher on his biceps, the way it hugs across his chest and pulls the collar low, exposing sharp collarbones.

Given the state of his shirt, there was no way he was going to be able to squeeze back into his skinny jeans. Lance and the others had watched him struggle around in his boxer shorts for five whole minutes, roaring with laughter, before Keith gave it up for good and threw them down.

_ "I don't have any other clothes." _

It had really been a sight, seeing him sulk and yet look defiant about it, as if this was just how he was resigned to walking around when he wasn't confined to his armour - in shorts and a t-shirt almost two sizes too small for him.

Even Shiro had laughed.  _ "Relax, Keith. You can borrow some of mine." _

Lance's eyes get caught on the curve of Keith's thigh as he stretches one leg out in front of him, shifting into a more comfortable position while being careful of the flowers. Keith props his elbow on his knee, and Lance's gaze slides up, settling on his stomach. His lack of impulse control almost gets the better of him here. Lance lifts his hand to put it on Keith's stomach, to get a handful of the soft abs he knows are hiding under the folds of that shirt.

Something jolts through him at the last second.

Lance puts his hand on the back of his own neck and looks away.

"So," he starts without knowing where to go. Why does he do that? Why does he open his mouth when he doesn't even have anything to say? Lance closes his eyes tightly, tries to get some air in his lungs. "What did you want, Keith?"

"Nothing," Keith says, "Just wondering where you were."

They've already pretty much established that. The ache inside of him isn't going away - if anything, Lance feels like it's growing, spreading out to fill his chest, sinking heavy into his limbs like a weight compounding his movements - and Lance struggles to push past it, to lift his shoulders in a shrug.

"Well, here I am. Mystery solved."

Lance sees the half amused look Keith gives him before he makes himself turn his head, pretending to look for Kaltenecker. He doesn't pretend for very long, because he quickly realizes that he doesn't see her anywhere, and lurches forward to get up, his heart dropping into his stomach. He can't lose her out here, too - he wasn't even paying attention - 

Keith's hand lands on his arm, easing him back down. He lifts his other hand to point.

"Relax. She's right over there."

Lance squints in that direction, but he can't make out much because of the distance even with the underglow. Maybe that dark shape looks a  _ little _ like - Oh. Yeah, alright that was definitely a cow tail swishing up to swat away stray bugs. Kaltenecker is fine. Lance settles with a huff, looking at Keith more appraisingly.

"What, did you suddenly develop night vision when your second puberty hit?"

"My what?"

Keith laughs the words out, and Lance turns red.

He could have a better handle on his brain-to-mouth filter.

Also, Keith's voice is deeper. Not by a lot. And maybe Lance only notices it because he hasn't talked to him casually like this in forever - in weeks, or months, or years. It feels like years. Maybe Lance only notices because Keith keeps his voice low deliberately, dropped between the two of them as if nothing else in the universe exists right now, even though they're the only ones here.

Something spears through Lance's chest, heat flooding his eyes and stinging his sinuses.

Lance feels kind of hollow inside.

He's felt like this for a while. Just… sad, and empty, and heavy. Ever since Keith left to join the Blades for good, Lance has felt gutted, like that ripped something out of him and left a huge hole in place of the small one that had been forming in the space behind his heart.

He misses his family. He misses being held and loved and feeling like he matters.

Allura doesn't want him, and he's trying so hard to be okay with that, but it hurts. It hurts not being wanted in the same way that he wants someone. And Lance was so busy sulking and worrying about his own stupid problems that he didn't even notice what was happening with Shiro, that Shiro was reaching out to him, trying to tell him that something was wrong, trying to ask him for help.

He was so inattentive that he let his friend -

"Lance?" Keith asks quietly, cautious, "Are you okay?"

Lance tries to say  _ yeah, _ tries to force the word out, tries to be normal, tries to act like he always does because that's easier for everyone else when they've all got their own problems,  _ real _ problems, to deal with - but a sob breaks past his lips instead, and his throat is tight. He claps his hands down over his eyes so Keith can't see him, curling into himself with a whimper that leads into another pathetic sob. His whole body feels choked with them, shuddering under the flood of his pent up emotions.

He feels  _ bad. _ He feels  _ so bad  _ about _ everything. _

He's scared to go back to Earth.

What if something happened to his family, and he wasn't there? What if they're -

A hand grabs his arm, and Lance lets himself be pulled out of the suffocating heat of his own body and turned into the cool night air, and then there are arms closing tightly around his shoulders and a face pressed against his neck, hair tickling his nose. Keith smells like sweat and smoke, sharp and wild and warm. His body is firm, a grounding pressure as he holds Lance against him, but not so tightly that Lance couldn't push him away if he wanted to - if Keith overstepped, or made it weird.

The heartbeat Lance feels drumming against his chest is hard and heavy.

Lance is still crying, but the surprise quiets his violent sobbing into stuttering breaths. Those shake his ribcage, send a tremor raking up his spine. Keith presses one hand against the middle of his back and squeezes him gently. Lance doesn't know what kind of noise he makes at that, caught between a sob and a laugh as he melts into the hug, arms wrapping tightly around Keith's chest.

He cries until he can't anymore, and even after he's calmed down, Keith doesn't let him go.

"Sorry I'm not better at this," Keith says softly, right in his ear.

Lance takes a second to get his breath.

"Eh, it's okay." The tone of indifference that he wants to give off is jilted by the sniffle that follows right after it. He let's the tears slide freely down his face, too tired to care that they're soaking into Keith's shirt as he rubs his gross face against it. "You don't suck at it, I guess."

Keith chuckles, a small deep sound that Lance feels against his own lungs.

Lance rests his chin on Keith's shoulder and blinks through a fresh well of tears, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. He clutches at Keith with both his hands, part of his mind not truly processing that this is real. He didn't think contact like this would make him feel so much better, but it does. It  _ really _ does. The contentment is seeping into his bones, and Lance doesn't want to let go.

Weeks of not sleeping well are starting to catch up with him. He's extra exhausted from the sudden crash of his emotions, and Lance closes his eyes.

"Your mom must have really softened you up, huh?"

"Yeah," Lance can hear the smile in Keith's voice, feel the curve of his lips against his neck, "It only took about two years."

"Is that seriously a joke? From you?" Lance actually laughs, but he still feels like crying. "Who are you?"

"Still Keith," Keith says.

And, yeah. That's a Keith answer.

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure."

"Then…." Lance's throat constricts, trying to block his voice as his fingers press down into Keith's back, warm through his shirt. A few more tears slide down his face, and he's glad Keith can't see them, wishes Keith couldn't feel the tremor of his body or hear how vulnerable and small his voice is, "What's with the hug, man….?"

Keith is quiet for a moment.

"Seemed like you needed one," he says, the words leaving him with quiet confidence, "And I wanted to. I missed… you guys. A lot."

"Oh."

"Is… is that okay?"

Some of Keith's natural awkwardness leaps into the moment, bright in his sudden uncertainty. He's still Keith. He's just …. Kind of softer. Which is hilarious considering he's built like a brick house now. He's quieter, more grounded in who he is.

Lance feels something cave in his chest, some unnamed emotion trying to push another wave of sobbing out of him, trying to sweep away the composure he's gained and desperately grasping at. He tucks his face into Keith's shirt, let's out a shaky exhale that becomes more like a whine than he wants it to, and nods because he doesn't trust himself to speak.

Keith relaxes, sighing softly.

Just a second later, though, he tenses up. Lance feels his every muscle go rigid with alertness before Keith is pushing Lance back from him, but it's too late. Keith's space wolf materializes out of nowhere with an intense blue crackle in the atmosphere, and then he is crashing into the both of them, knocking them the rest of the way to the ground.

There's a heavy paw the size of a plate in Lance's ribs, a doggy elbow digging into his stomach as the wolf settles his full weight over them. Keith groans, "Why are you like this?" over the hot pants of excited breathing ghosting across his face.

There's some snuffling and wiggling, and a cold nose presses against Lance's ear. He yelps, flinching away, pushing at the furry chest, but he can't budge it. A soft, warm tongue laps over his cheek, then the rest of his face and neck; the hair at his temple, the corners of his eyes, the bridge of his nose, the nape of his neck as he turns to escape, even though he's laughing now, unable to help it, "Hey, c'mon, lay off!"

An arm slides in between them, and Keith lifts the enormous brute off of Lance, rolling into a sitting position and holding the wolf in his lap like he weighs nothing. The wolf immediately swings his head up and licks under Keith's chin, all the way along his throat. Keith grabs him gently by the muzzle, puffing out a laugh - like he couldn't take Keith's entire arm off in one bite.

"Knock it off," he says, all soft with affection as he shakes the wolf's head, "You're such a nuisance."

Lance braces himself on his hands, lifting one to wipe his face with his sleeve.

"Maybe the dog softened you up, too," Lance ventures with a small smile.

He's twice as big as Keith is, all sleek blue and black fur, all muscle and slender yet powerful legs. But he curls up like a baby in Keith's arms and rests his chin on Keith's shoulder, tail thumping across his leg and the ground while Keith scratches the base of his skull, behind his ears. When Keith stops to look at Lance, the wolf groans and throws his head, bumps his hard skull against Keith's, until Keith obediently resumes scratching.

"Wow," Lance says, absolutely grinning now, "Somebody else was getting attention and we just couldn't stand that, could we?"

"Sounds like the old Lance," Keith teases, hitting Lance with that familiar smirk.

Lance's chest does something funny then, warmth tripping down his insides, and he huffs, unsure of how to respond for once.

After a few minutes, Keith rolls his space wolf off to the side, and he goes reluctantly, shaking himself out. The wolf turns and climbs right back over Keith's legs and settles on Lance, instead, pushing him down. Lance let's out a small  _ ooph  _ as his back hits the ground, his legs curling up. The wolf lays his head on Lance's chest, wiggles down, and bats those luminous yellow eyes at him. And since his full weight isn't crushing Lance quite as badly anymore, he finds that he can't say no to that gorgeous face.

"What?" Lance says, rubbing the wolf's head between his hands, digging his fingers into his fur to reach that sweet spot underneath his jaw, "You recognize the superior groomer? Know a guy that's great at giving belly rubs when you see him?"

The wolf rolls under his attention, feet kicking out and hitting Keith, who puts a hand on his side to rub his ribs. Kaltenecker has wandered back to see what the scuffle was about, but she keeps a respectful distance when she smells the wolf, who perks up at Kaltenecker's approach. His ears are up, tail thumping harder, body tense to spring.

Lance has a brief moment to consider how much it's going to hurt when he decides to launch himself off of Lance and give chase - also a spike of fear for Kaltenecker's safety, even though he knows the wolf only wants to play. Keith's hand presses down more firmly, and his voice deepens.

"Don't even think about it," he says.

The wolf huffs and puts his head back down on Lance's chest, wiggles it, and both them breathe out a sigh at the same time for different reasons.

Sitting beside them, Keith laughs.

Lance feels... weird.

Better - in a way - but also like the part of him that has been unhappy for so long is simmering just under his skin. He's a little embarrassed about his breakdown. He tries so hard to keep that stuff to himself so he doesn't burden any of the others and then he just unloads it all on Keith as soon as he gets back, and he feels like maybe he did it for attention and he is just the same old Lance after all.

"....Sorry," Lance says into the quiet.

"For what?" Keith asks, looking at him.

Lance feels his eyes well up again and has to look away. He distracts himself with rubbing circles into the wolf's thick blue mane, marveling at how smooth and soft his fur actually is.

"I don't know," he admits, voice like lead because he can't say  _ everything. _

He's too tired to even cry anymore, a single tear slipping down his cheekbone and into his hair. Above him, he hears Keith hum softly. He's still scratching his hand against the wolf's ribs. Through their combined efforts, he seems to have lost interest in Kaltenecker's presence. His eyes are closed, body relaxed and breathing slow and even, totally at ease.

Lance envies that.

He hasn't felt that in so long.

It's startling for him to realize that he kind of feels that now. He thinks that part of it is because he finally broke and bawled his eyes out, and he's too heavy and drained to feel anything else. He knows it's mostly because Keith is  _ here. _ Because after a few minutes of thought, Keith lays back on the ground, shoulder to shoulder with him, so they're both staring up at the night sky, into the wide expanse of colorful space. Because Keith came to look for him when no one else has thought twice about him when he's gone off to be by himself because they're all having a good time without him, doing their own things, and he doesn't have a thing and he doesn't want to be in the way.

Because Keith doesn't say anything else for a while, other than a soft,

"It wasn't your fault, Lance."

And because the statement alone is enough to make Lance's chest fill up to the brim, and spill over.  _ It wasn't your fault I left. What happened with Shiro wasn't your fault. None of it was. _ Lance knows that - he's been trying to tell himself that for months, for days - but being unable to say something out loud, even to yourself, and hearing it earnestly spoken from someone else are two very different things.

Lance closes his eyes tightly, a few more tears sliding free.

He struggles to get his voice under control. He drops one hand from the wolf's head, grabs onto Keith's arm where it's resting in between them, and squeezes harder than he means to.

"Thanks for coming out here to sit with me...."

He doesn't look, but he knows Keith is smiling.

"Thanks for being here."

-x-

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is thematically similar to to my other fic 'bravado' but I don't!!! Care!!! I don't caarree!!! I needed to vent, I needed something healing, I hope you guys enjoyed it, please lemme know what you think!! ♡


End file.
